A Me Without You
by lookskindagreyout
Summary: A story of giving up what you want the most, after loosing it to yourself in the first place. First appearance of Alter-Walter!
1. Chapter 1

It would seriously piss me off if I were to come around and start jacking stuff from myself. Honestly- you couldn't even really get mad, because you'd have done the same thing… and _did_… all the while knowing how mad it would make yourself… confusing. o.O

_*Fringe, while currently escaping my possession, is just begging for AU. Seriously. They even tore open the dimensions for it. Which, as it seems, is not appeased with soap..._

Chpt. 1

"You've reached the phone of professor Bishop. I am unable to answer at this time, so please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you."

_*Beep*_

"Hi, professor B. It's me, Astrid- your new assistant? Anyways, I'm getting a little worried, down here. You said you were coming down to the lab today, weren't you? I don't know, maybe I'm just going crazy. Call me back, bye!"

"Are you always this persistent?" Walter asked flatly as Astrid flipped her cell phone shut.

"Oh, hey, professor B.," Astrid said, feeling slightly foolish, "I thought you weren't coming down here."

"So I heard," Walter replied, pulling off his coat and scarf to hang them on the coat rack near the door. Next he donned a newly-starched lab coat, "I'm only a few minutes late, anyways."

Astrid looked down at her wristwatch, "An hour and a half," she corrected.

"Yes, well. Perhaps we can get started, then," Walter shuffled past her and into the basement laboratory, "Have you done the checklist, as I instructed?"

"Yes, professor B.," Astrid answered, pulling on a lab coat of her own and following after him. She pushed the clipboard into his hands for him to inspect, "I've started up the equipment, logged onto the computer- password's 'Pastrami'-, opened the blinds in the office, made coffee, unlocked the specimen storage freezers, and checked the mail."

"You got the mail?"

"No mail today."

"Rats. Speaking of rats, did you feed Jimmy?"

Astrid paused, "…who's Jimmy?"

Walter stilled in his motions of adjusting a microscope in passing, "Oh… yes. Never mind. Good job," he handed her back the clipboard, and continued on his way.

"Thanks," Astrid said, "But you still haven't told me what we're doing down here, professor B."

"It's a laboratory. Naturally we will be doing _sciencey _things. And don't think this will raise your grade, either," Walter chuckled, and Astrid gave him a small smile.

"I know _that_. And I don't even take physics. But what are we doing?"

Walter looked at her for a few moments, before quietly replying, "We're trying to find something that was stolen."

"What?" Astrid's eyes widened as the professor's form suddenly hunched with pain, a short grunt escaping him, "Professor B.?!"

Walter straitened, his face draining of color as he panted softly, "Oh, dear," he murmured, and contracted again, his elbow jarring a set of glass flasks to shatter on the cement floor.

Astrid rushed to him as his knees buckled and he collapsed onto all fours, "Professor B., what's wrong?!"

"My arm-!" He gasped, "My chest-!"

Astrid immediately scrambled up the steps, yanking her purse off the pegs near the door and rushing to him, "Here," Astrid said, "lay down on your back, I'm getting you some aspirin…"

"It's not-!" Walter started, before he was cut off by a spasm of pain, thrashing on the floor.

Astrid dumped her purse, her fingers raking through her various pens and cosmetics, and she seized the bottle of medication, popping it open and selecting two of the bitter-tasting white pills, "Here. Calm down and swallow these," and she pressed them into his palm. She set to pulling open his lab coat and yanking out the knot of his tie, the buttons of his shirt flying as she tore it open. Her eyes rounded in shock.

"It's not a stroke!" Walter managed at last, the aspirin becoming crushed powder in his clenched fist.

"What- what are you…?!" Astrid stammered, flabbergasted and horrified.

xXx

He thought it was funny how everyone mimicked the sound of hydraulics to indicate something robotic, when, truthfully, it was much more like a soft purr, when it was working correctly. When it wasn't working so hot… it certainly let him know.

"Bish? Bish, wake up. Wake up."

He opened one eye at a time. First his left eye, the iris its own, grey-blue color. Then his right eye, mechanical, sapphire blue, adjusting much in the same manner that a camera shutter did, as he focused to the light of the hospital room. He blinked a few times, squinting a bit to confirm the false sensory organ as his own.

"'You feeling alright, now?" William Bell stood over his old friend, looking concerned, "tell me what you're feeling, Bish."

Walter took in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments. He had long become accustomed to the heavy, liquid feeling of the carbon fiber casing that cradled his lung, and how much longer it took for him to breathe than it did the average individual. Slowly, listening and feeling the soft clicks of artificial tendons tightening, his flexed the fingers of his right hand, and made a fist, "I think it's working again," he murmured softly.

"Shake," William said, as if to a dog. Walter lifted his hand, offering it to him, and William nodded, "Very good. Does it feel alright? Do you feel alright?"

"Yes. Well, I'm a bit sore."

William chuckled, "You would be. The damn thing had you tazed on the floor, when I got there. You've had quite a voltage through you." Slowly, with the aide of his friend, Walter sat up on the gurney, raising his arm to look at it.

Walter did not have a right arm, and a good portion of the right side of his torso was gone, too. He had lost them a long time ago; seventeen years prior, to be exact. What held his body together were wires and mechanical circuitry, complex and extensive, ranging from the inner reach of his clavicle to the lower points of his ribcage. Looking at the contraption, hearing through his rebuilt ear canal, seeing through an artificial eye, made him realize, time and time again, that he owed his life to William 'Belly' Bell.

A single word, _SERENITY,_ was etched into the carbon fiber plate that comprised his outer forearm.

"What did you do to my masterpiece, Bish-fish?" William joked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I got it stuck in the garbage disposal again," Walter smiled, amused at the horrified look on his friend's face, "I'm only joshing. I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Nina doesn't have nearly as much trouble with hers than you do," William grumbled, "You've been mistreating it, I know you."

"I'm a prototype, Belly. Things go wrong with the prototype, that's why it's _called _a prototype," Walter said, "And Nina's isn't nearly as extensive."

William leaned over the gurney to shine the small, bright beam of a flashlight into each of Walter's eyes. His left pupil was slow to react, his right almost too fast, "You haven't been sleeping again," he said quietly.

"No."

"Walt, Serenity uses you like a battery pack, I've told you this. If you run out of energy, it goes on the fritz. You have to take care of yourself, or it will kill you," William looked at him seriously, "And then I've only prolonged the inevitable."

"Don't worry, Belly, I'm not going to die," Walter said, "I've got too much going on."

"The Divider, how is that going?" William asked, beginning to pack up his set of delicate mechanical instruments, sweeping nubs of spent wires onto the floor.

"I ran a few tests recently, but it's the same problem I've had, all these years."

"Not enough power."

"Yes." Walter sighed, raising his steel fingers to run them back through his hair in distress, "I just can't figure it out. All these years, Belly, all of this time, and I still can't figure the damn thing out."

"I met that new assistant of yours," William said, changing the subject after a few moments of depressing silence, "She's a cute one. Cuter than I was, when I was your assistant."

"Yes, well. I suppose she'd be an ex-assistant, since I have to fire her, now."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm Robo-professor. Robotics like yours aren't exactly out on the market yet, and there's no way in hell I can pass this off as a prosthetic." Walter reached over to grab his undershirt, pulling it over his shoulders and wincing at the sore kinks in his muscles.

"Did it bother her?"

"It bothers everyone. It even bothered…" Walter paused, and shook his head, looking away from the gilded gold band around his finger, "…but it doesn't matter. I'll find another assistant. Besides, a cute girl in a lab means I'm only begging for distractions."

"Walt, have you found the spot yet?" William asked quietly.

Walter looked up at him, then glanced around the empty room, "I'm using the same place, Belly."

"Bish, you can't! you've already tried it time and time again, and look what's it's done to you!" William cried, "I won't be able to save you again, I'm not that good!"

"I'm not counting on you to save me!" Walter snapped, "I'm counting on getting back what that son of a bitch stole from me! And if I can't, then I'm better off dead!"

"Peter," William said, "you want Peter back."

"He stole my son," Walter said, his voice breaking, "He stole my _child_."

xXx


	2. Chapter 2

Chpt. 2

He dreamt of that night, he thought of it every waking moment of every day- it consumed him. But, after such fierce obsession, after so long with nothing else to sustain him, the events of that night, twenty years, four months, seventeen days, four hours, forty-three minutes, eight, nine, ten seconds… it had begun to grow warped and twisted.

A strange feeling of anxiousness and fear tugging at his stomach had woken him, and he could not remember getting up from the sheets and dressing; only standing there, fully clothed, panting with exhaustion, looking at his summer home, hearing the waves crashing in the distance. He had dashed up the steps, the screen door banging open as he entered, sprinting for Peter's room, "Son?!" he had cried as he had burst in.

Peter had woken, looking up at him drowsily, "Dad?"

Trembling, weeping. He did not know why he had been so sad, what had made his heart ache so terribly as he gathered his child to his chest, crying and kissing him. Peter. The center of his very universe.

"We have to go, Peter. You must come with me, this moment, this second. Don't wake your mother."

The next part of his memories were so foreign, he had long dismissed them as some fevered dream. Yet still they remained, like a piece of his puzzle that had never quite fit. He had driven up to Reidan lake, chasing the man that had stolen his son. He had stood, staring up at a vast, shimmering curtain, beyond it an echo of the world that he knew. He had cradled his son in his arms, weeping and demanding him back, while simultaneously screaming and begging to take him away.

He had returned to himself lying in the shallow water of the lake, slowly dying as his body was nearly ripped in two, the arm he had used to grip his boy missing. He had never seen Peter again.

His wife had said that it had been some kind of animal attack, and the fact was yet undisputed; that Peter had suffered an even worse fate, even as Walter had only barely survived, being strung together with monstrous parts of machines to keep him alive. She had left him shortly after to suffer her own pain and loss, while Walter strained to gather the fragments of his splintered mind.

Belly had been the one to at last clarify what had happened; the world mirrored itself, and it was possible to step across the looking glass into a world nearly the same as his own.

However impossible it seemed.

Lying half-dead in the jaws of an incomplete machine William had constructed, Walter began to go mad. His son was _his_, and he would get him back, no matter the sacrifice.

He'd kill his doppelganger, for taking everything from him.

xXx

Oh gawd, so early, so early. Why would someone be calling so damn early in the morning?!

Walter crawled out from his refuge on the couch, holding his flannel comforter around himself as he stumbled to the door, where a persistent, enthusiastic knocking had woken him, "Just a moment!" he snapped as he pulled away the door chain and twisted the lock to open, opening the door.

"Good morning, professor B.!"

"Good God, miss Abalone."

"It's Astrid," she laughed, striking a stray curl away from her healthily flushed face, "Good morning! I'm surprised you're up, actually."

"I'm not," Walter frowned grumpily, tightening the throw around his shoulders. He carefully looked her up and down, analyzing what he saw: Running shoes, athletic jogging suit, Ipod containing music with a ridiculously simple beat and high volume. This could only mean one thing. "I'm not interested in entering the kingdom of Jehovah, but thank you for dedicating time to your false deity," and he moved to close the door.

Astrid laughed again, stopping the door, "I was just out for a jog, and I remembered you saying that you'd moved into the neighborhood, so I thought I'd stop in and say hi."

"Hi. Are we done?"

"You're grouchy, in the morning," Astrid grinned, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Walter shut the door behind her, scratching back his mussed curls with an agitated sigh.

"Miss, I'm not decent."

"You haven't unpacked yet?" Astrid asked, raising her eyebrows as she looked around at the stacks of cardboard boxes against the walls.

"No," Walter replied, "I haven't found the time." He delved into a black plastic bag for a pair of slacks, and pulled them over his under shorts.

"You've been here a month," Astrid said, lifting a small picture in a silver frame for a closer look.

"Didn't I fire you? Or did I forget to do that?" Walter took the picture from her, tossing it back into the box.

Astrid looked taken aback. "You're firing me?" she picked up another frame.

"Uh-huh. Stop touching my things, please," Walter reached from the picture, and the throw slid from his mechanical shoulder to land at his feet. Immediately he retracted his grasp, stooping for the blanket. He looked up to see her snap her eyes back to his face from staring, "and, as you can see, this is exactly why. I'd greatly appreciate your keeping this in confidence, miss Aseismic; I simply cannot have the student body knowing of my… abnormalities."

"Did you loose your arm in the war?" Astrid asked.

Walter could not refrain his chuckling, "_What_ war?"

Astrid shrugged, "I don't know. Which one were you in?"

"I was never in any war, I lift beakers for a living," Walter wrapped the blanket around himself, "but I sometimes think that it may be just as dangerous."

"Is your eye artificial, as well?" Astrid asked, "I mean… the really blue one."

"Yes. And my inner ear canal. Have you satisfied your curiosities enough to leave me in peace?" Walter said, shuffling past her to shut any other boxes he did not wish her to peruse.

"Jesus, he even rebuilt part of your spine," Astrid breathed, and Walter froze as her fingertips stroked his middle back from flesh to steel, "Bell is even better than what the files say."

Walter turned on his heel, face-to-face with the barrel of a 9mm, "You're a spy!" he spat angrily, "Damn it, I knew it!

Astrid smiled behind the pistol grip, "Sorry, professor B., but I'm afraid you can't fire me. The FG has known about your 'Divider' project for a while, and now we want in."

"You bastards!" Walter snarled, "You can't just come in and take this from me, I've worked too long! You have no idea what I've gone through for this!"

"I'd say we do," Astrid replied, nodding to his robotic appendages.

xXx


	3. Chapter 3

Chpt. 3

"Are you going to go about with that thing jabbing me in the kidney all day?" Walter grunted as he turned to lock his front door, Astrid close at his back.

"No, professor Bishop. We're going to go about your routine as normal, today, and this is only a reminder, to keep you on the right track," the muzzle of her pistol softly brushed the hem of his overcoat, before disappearing into her shoulder holster, "and don't think we don't know your schedule, we've been tailing you for quite some time."

"I hope it wasn't you. That must have been dreadfully boring," Walter said.

"You're going to miss the bus, professor Bishop," Astrid smiled, setting him back on track.

"It's Sunday. I don't take the bus on Sunday," Walter said seriously, "I walk through the cemetery."

"Then we'll walk through the cemetery."

"No. We'll take the bus," Walter said quickly, turning and leading the way down the steps of the house to the sidewalk.

"Offer me your arm," Astrid said lowly, and he frowned flatly as he obeyed, and she gently gripped the crook of his elbow as they strode along. Astrid tapped an earpiece hidden away in her curls, "We're moving, Charlie."

Walter's eyes were drawn to movement across the street, and a dark-haired man folded his newspaper shut, nodding at Astrid and rising from his seat to pace them, "And I thought you were cute," Walter grumbled.

They walked a block to the corner bus stop, and stood with the small gathering to wait. Walter pushed his left hand into his coat, firmly tugging a button free on his shirt just under his tie. He glanced at Astrid, who was watching Charlie across the street. Walter silently slid his hand into his shirt, across his skin until his finger met steel.

He paused as Astrid returned her attention to him, shifting her grip on his arm, "Tell me about the Divider," she said quietly.

"You know about it already, you're a spy," Walter grumped, "What else could I possibly tell you that hasn't been written about every move I make?"

Astrid chuckled, "I'm not a spy, professor Bishop, I'm a government agent. And this is for your own good, quiet obviously," she tugged on his gloved right hand with a dark smile.

Walter glanced up as the bus rounded the corner, and the waiting patrons around him began to move about, gathering their possessions. Walter's hand slowly and carefully found a tiny dial just above his clavicle, turning it up notch by notch with his fingernail, "The government may partially fund my experimentations, but their contributions are far too menial to give them leeway in my work," Walter said, returning a bitter smile. He could feel the minute vibrations his shoulder began to emit. He was half thankful that Astrid had released his elbow.

He had a strange suspicion the this was _really _going to hurt.

"Your work is too important… and substantially _dangerous,_ to ignore," Astrid replied as the bus halted at the curb, the air breaks hissing as the vehicle lowered itself for easier access, "you knew when you decided to accept aide that you would have to cooperate with us."

"Scientist repo," Walter muttered as the other borders flooded past them and onto the bus. At last Walter stepped aside, allowing Astrid to mount the steps before him, and he reached up, burying his steel fingers into the frame of the door, ripping the seams of his black glove. Astrid spun around, her eyes round with shock as he hauled the door shut and bent it into place, "I'm sorry!" He called to her as she hit the glass, calling his name, "this is too dangerous for the government to mettle in, right now!" He turned on his heel, pushing past a late arrival to head for a side street, "Too dangerous for someone with something to loose," he muttered under his breath.

He had counted on her partner Charlie's arrival, but not as soon as it was. "Bishop!" he called in warning, "Stop!"

"Officer!" Walter called to the police cruiser parked outside of a restaurant, and the officer looked up as he trotted up, "I'm sorry, officer, there appears to be a man after me, and I think he has a gun."

The policeman looked up as Charlie rounded the corner, his firearm held low to his side, and the officer quickly drew his own gun, "Sir, stop where you are and drop your weapon!"

Walter did not wait around for the theatrics, and set off in the opposite direction at once. A bullet struck the cement wall behind him and he gave a yelp, darting for cover. Another bullet struck his coattail as he ducked behind a car, and he heard Charlie subdue the mettling officer, back in pursuit once more. His heart hammering, Walter looked around for a method of escape, and swallowed back a dark chuckle as he spotted it, and checked his pocketwatch.

Yep. It would certainly hurt.

"Bishop, NO!" Charlie barked as Walter broke from cover, and after a few fleeting steps, jumped the small side rail of the bridge, flinging his right arm behind himself to grind his mechanical fingers into the cement, rubble and dust trailing him as he slid down the steep slope, shredding the sleeve of his coat and shirt. At last he lost his balance and gave a cry as his knee clipped the concrete, disturbing his decent as he tumbled from the side of the funnel, coming to a crashing landing shoulder-first atop the train.

Walter felt a white-hot, blinding pain erupt from his temple as he felt himself sliding from the roof, and he raised his steel fist, plunging it into the weak metal of the roof. He splayed his fingers to keep himself in place, and blinked a few times, the world growing hazy. A shock ran up his arm and he retracted with a curse, "Not now, damn it!" He shut his eyes as the cacophony of sirens and yells faded away.

At length he sat up, cradling his head in his hands, as the side of his face was covered with blood. The real parts of his body ached unbearably, and he had a small suspicion that his knee was broken. He delved into his coat for his medication, and only laughed hopelessly to find the bottle shattered against his breastplate, pills missing. He threw it off the side if the train as it rattled swiftly down the tracks.

xXx

"He's a crazy son of a bitch," Charlie said, shaking his head as he sat in the off-drivers' side of the unmarked vehicle, taking a drink of his coffee.

"The suspicion has been raised," Astrid admitted.

"I thought you said he was a _physics_ instructor, not James friggin' Bond," Charlie continued, "I swear to god, I thought he was dead when he jumped. A second sooner and that train would have creamed him. And how he managed that slide crap… unbelievable."

"I doubt he's in very good shape, after a fall like that," Astrid mused, "it was an act of desperation. He's always wanted to keep that arm a secret, he admitted that, and now he's given a display to dozens of citizens."

"You want to check the hospitals? I'm sure they'd report someone that was an android."

"He isn't an android, shut up. And no, he wouldn't need a hospital, he's a doctor himself. I've got units posted at the university and his house, along with the Massive Dynamics building, in case he needs Bell to give him repairs."

"Or an oil change," Charlie joked, and Astrid smirked.

"Yeah. Listen, he said something about not taking the bus on Sundays, about walking through the cemetery. Do you know anything about that?"

"His house is right across the street from the cemetery," Charlie offered, "Do you think he moved there for it? Wife deceased, something?"

"The file says he lost his son a while ago, some sort of animal attack," Astrid frowned, musing her chin with her fingertips, "The same one that took his arm."

"Just his arm?" Charlie questioned, "What about the other parts?"

"His eye and his ear. I don't know. But one thing is certain; William Bell rebuilt them. But that doesn't matter, right now. We've got to get over to that cemetery and have a look-see on what we can find along the lines of one 'Peter Bishop'."

xXx


	4. Chapter 4

Chpt. 4

Under any other circumstance, he would have forgotten what he was doing. Walter tended to forget a lot of things- term papers, where he was going, what he was doing… most of his lunch hour was spent in vain search of his classroom. Sundays were usually spent forgetting everything anyways, but they were also relatively pain-free. Now, stumbling along with a half-exposed metallic appendage and numerous, visible wounds, Walter was constantly reminded of his painful objective.

The heels of his shoes slipped slightly as he slid over the cast-iron fencing and lost his grip, landing on the slightly-overgrown lawn with a jarring thud. Rising and grumbling as he rubbed his slightly bruised backside, Walter looked around quickly, straitened his trench coat, and made his way among the tombstones.

The sky overhead was silver with a bright overcast as he tucked his hands in his pockets, sighing. His feet scuffed to a halt before a single, granite headstone, and he swallowed, trying to calm his thoughts, and shake the empty, hollow feeling of déjà vu and immense sadness that always surrounded this place, "Hello, son," he said at last.

His eyes traced the engraved, bold print; PETER BISHOP.

He'd been here so many times, told his son so many things… it was slightly distressing to think that there time here was about to end, and he slowly dropped to sit on his knees in the grass with a painful groan, "I jumped onto a train today, that was pretty awesome," Walter said with a small smile, "I'll admit that I was a fool to do it, though. It messed me up pretty bad," only after purchasing a substantial amount of numbing drugs did he find that his knee was useable, and not, in fact, broken, "But I have more important things to tell you. Things… things are going to jump ahead, I think." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, watching his feet, "And I know that I've rushed the last times, too. But this time… Peter, this time I have to."

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he turned to look over his shoulder, fully expecting to see someone… someone dark, watching him. He saw no one. Walter dropped his voice a bit, speaking quickly "They'll muss it all up, Peter. They don't know, they don't understand how much I miss you…" There was a sound of crushing leaves underfoot, and he stopped.

"Professor Bishop," someone said.

"Good bye, Peter," Walter whispered, leaning forward to kiss the headstone, and he swallowed, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He stood in silence as Astrid approached him, her gun level with her eyes and her laser-dot twitching across the back of his neck.

"Show me some hands, Professor," Astrid said, and he pulled them from his pockets, raising them.

"I won't run," he said.

"Good. Then I won't shoot."

"I have to go to Reiden Lake. Do you know where that is?" Walter asked, his glum sights still on the empty grave.

"Yes. But first we're going to the lab," Astrid said, slowly sliding her gun into her holster and drawing out her handcuffs with a clear jingling noise.

"There's no point in going to the lab," Walter said as she took him by the wrists, pulling his arms around his back to cuff them together, "just as there is no point to handcuffing me, I think."

Astrid smirked, "How do you think?" Walter dislocated his thumb and slipped the handcuff over his hand, turning to face her, looking abashed. Her brows rose, "Well, that settles it. Charlie was right; you are a freak."

"Would you like me to put it back on?" Walter questioned.

Astrid chuckled, "No." they stood in silence for a few moments, "So… this is your son?"

"No," Walter answered, looking back at the headstone, "My son is in a place far from here, I'm sure."

xXx

"So the problem is power."

"Yes. It's always been power; for twenty years it's been about the damn power," Walter grumbled, frustrated, "And I _know _it's there, I know that's where he…" his fingertips traced the smooth paper of the map, crossing a crease, over Reiden Lake.

"Who, professor Bishop?" Astrid questioned, glancing away from her task of driving to watch him suspiciously.

Walter glared up at her, "What, that wasn't in the files? Doesn't the government know positively everything there is to know, about me?"

"Almost everything. But time and time again you've referred to someone, as if you were chasing them. Who is it?"

"It doesn't matter," Walter snapped, jamming the felt tip of his marker into the map sharply, "without the correct power source, the Divider is useless. You may be flashy about butting in on my work, but you're rather useless, when it comes to a solution."

Astrid considered for a few moments, "If the Divider isn't working, why are we going to Reiden lake?" He had briefly muttered about some sort of porous tear in the dimensions, and she had done her best not to call him insane. Oddly enough, he seemed slightly appreciative that she had kept silent.

"You could have been such a good assistant, if you weren't a spy," Walter sighed.

Astrid laughed, "I'm doing you a favor, you know," she said, "I was supposed to get you and your research and take you strait to headquarters."

Walter paused, "Why? Why now, when I'm no closer to completing the Divider than I was twenty years ago?"

Astrid shrugged, "It's not my job to know," she said, "this all could have gone a lot smoother if you hadn't fired me."

"My bad," Walter said.

xXx

The sky was growing darker with storm clouds, and the sun had long set as Walter awoke to the first clap of thunder that trembled the air. His right arm had set to vibrating again, the circuitry humming with the static of the molecules affected by the storm. He quietly opened his eye, his real one, to look across the cab at Astrid, who was silent as she drove, and only leaned forward to turn on the windshield wipers.

He wondered if the him that existed on the other side knew the her on the other side. And did the him over there remember her name? Because _he _certainly couldn't.

Something didn't feel right. Why did it feel like he was chasing something again?

Walter sat up in his seat, making Astrid start a bit, "Did the storm wake you?" she questioned.

He shook his head, delving into his coat for pain medication as his sides began to ache, and his bandaged temple throb.

"Walter, you said that your son wasn't in that grave," Astrid said, and he paused as he palmed the narcotics, "if he's not there, where is he?"

Walter swallowed the medication, "I know that you do not believe me, when I speak of my work," he said, "no one does. I understand why, as well. The simple thought of an alternate universe… is lunacy."

Astrid did not respond.

"I am crazy. I acknowledge this, if anything. But my work is not to prove that this dimension exists, it is to open a passage to get there."

"Why?"

"To find something that was stolen," Walter repeated.

"Your son," Astrid said softly.

Walter wiped his lips on the back of his sleeve, "Don't take the turnoff," he said, "we need to get to Reiden lake."

"What about the Divider?" Astrid questioned, "I thought you said it was at your old house."

"My intentions are unexplainable. I don't even understand them. But things like this don't make a whole hell of a lot of sense, I fear," Walter said quietly.

xXx


	5. Chapter 5

Chpt. 5

The rain was nearly blinding as they neared the lake, and it greatly impeded their progress, the minutes seeming to inch by as Walter sat uncomfortably in his seat, his back perfectly strait as his eyes searched the dark.

"There," he said at last, motioning to a chained-off service road, "pull in and stop there, please."

"Who are we looking for?" Astrid asked as the car slowed, and she twisted the wheel to turn in.

"I don't know," Walter kicked open the door, unfastening his seat belt and turning to her "are you coming?"

"Where are we going?" Astrid asked.

"I don't know. Leave the lights on, we'll need them," Walter pulled his collar up around his throat and stepped out.

Astrid smiled and shook her head, grabbing her umbrella and getting out of the car.

The headlights reflected like the beams of floodlights in the falling sheets of rain, and Walter was quickly drenched, the cold trickles surprisingly calming on his aching brow. He sloshed through the mud toward the inky dark of the lake.

"Walter, be careful," Astrid warned, "that could slough in, that's why this area is marked off."

Walter turned to her, and smiled, "I know that, thank you."

Astrid said nothing as he turned back to the water.

So. Here.

Staring down at the tiny waves that lapped at his shoes, Walter somehow thought he would see the murky clouding of blood in the water, his blood… he gently shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had the sudden urge to get back in the water, that if he waded out, that he could find what he was looking for at last.

Oh. Ow.

Walter raised his hand, his fingers gathering the fabric over his mechanically shelled heart, an overwhelming pain taking his breath away as he looked up, the feeling of presence indescribable, "Peter," he whispered.

The sand under his feet suddenly gave, and he let out a cry as he plunged into the freezing lake, choking and thrashing as he inhaled the murky water, flooding into his mouth and nostrils.

He stretched and kicked for the surface, his hand just barely gracing the surface before he began to sink quickly, his decent regardless of his efforts. He suddenly realized that it was his heavy arm acting as an anchor, and his left hand shot into his shirt, his fingernails scrambling for the pins in his shoulder.

He suddenly stilled.

This might work. He'd never thought of ending it all like this, it was even a bit poetic. The thought of death had never occurred to him… it was so easy. After all, it was the way he should have died in the first place, it would have stopped it all… the obsessive working, the sleepless nights, the angry letters from his wife, the nightmares.

Walter shut his eyes, calm settling over his features. Was this suicide? It was so peaceful, his lungs didn't even have air and he wasn't afraid… he almost felt guilty.

Hot hands closed around the sides of his face, and his eyes sprang open as he was kissed. Air was forced into his mouth and into his lungs- someone was trying to save him. Why?

Anger touched him, and he pushed them away, wondering why they would rob him of his end. Arms closed around his middle, struggling to draw him upward, back to the world, back to life. Their efforts were wasted, the arm held him to the murky bottom. He thought they would give up and leave him, but they did not relent, and he could feel their tugging growing weaker.

They would die.

Walter stared into Astrid's strained and frightened features, as she struggled to save him. He couldn't let her die. His hand instinctively went into his shirt, and he drew out the three pins that locked his arm in place, and let the appendage slip from his sleeve and disappear into the dark. Lightning silently illuminated the water as they kicked for the surface.

They emerged gasping and sputtering in the rain, and Astrid hauled him to the shore, where he lay on 'dry' land, wet sand clinging to the side of his face, and he coughed up water and spat it out. He was trembling uncontrollably as Astrid rubbed and patted his shoulders.

At length, Walter sat up, the effort strange, with only one arm. He was panting as he wiped his lips on his sleeve, "I told you to be careful," Astrid smiled wryly, pushing back her wet hair.

"Again, my bad," Walter replied with a small smile of his own. Astrid helped him to his feet, and he flinched away as she touched his empty shoulder joint.

"What happened to your arm?" she exclaimed.

Walter shook his head, "I don't know."

Lightning flashed again, and they both looked up as there was a strange noise, something between the high-pitched squeal of a television being turned on and the grinding hum of a Geiger counter.

The air flickered and shimmered before them, just over the surface of the lake, and the rain striking the anomaly did not reach the ground. "What the hell…?" Astrid breathed as they stood before a shimmering curtain that blurred the lines of the landscape behind it.

"The Divider…" Walter said, awed, "someone's opening it from the other side…"

There was the sharp crack of gunfire, and they flinched. But silence resonated in the rain, and they realized that the shots were from somewhere across the divide. The curtain was growing clearer, and they could see the forms of people on the other side, and equipment that was a near replica of Walter's own Divider.

And Walter saw him.

xXx


	6. Chapter 6

Chpt. Six

What horribly perfect looking glass was this?

That boy was _his_ boy.

That stranger behind him was Walter. Their expressions of fear were the same, the same creases of age, of laughter and sadness, and a very abrupt epiphany came upon him. There was only _one _Walter- the one who had both lost and gained a son.

What had the slavery of obsession done to him?

xXx

Astrid tore her eyes from the shimmering spectacle before them, her gaze coming to rest on Walter. He seemed very suddenly like an incomplete shell of someone who existed behind the opening. His eyes sparkling as he stared, he lifted his hand, his trembling fingers stretching toward the divide. The effort was a hopeless one.

"Peter."

A dark figure approached the divide, shimmering and blurred behind the curtian. They reached the curtain of light, and began to pass through it. Someone was crossing over.

Abruptly, there was a whirring sound, and the divide began to shimmer and flicker, "Walter!" Astrid cried, and instinctively pulled him away from the divide as lightening flashed and thunder cracked and rumbled, and the divide was gone. Warm blood suddenly spattered his turned cheek as the person that had nearly crossed was suddenly severed in half.

He stood in the storm, staring into the dark, "I gave up my son," he whispered, his bloody lips trembling, "I let him go. It's all my fault."

"Walter, what are you talking about? Was that… was that another dimension?" Astrid asked.

"Did you see him? Peter? Wasn't he beautiful?" Walter shut his eyes, tears streaming down his face, and he rubbed his fingertips together as he smiled, "My son. My boy."

xXx

They sought refuge from the storm in a small hotel only a few miles away from the lake. The place was highway robbery, and Astrid grumbled grudgingly about the fact that they did not take credit cards, and she found that she could only fork out enough cash for a single room. Walter said nothing, and only sat on the side of the bed when they entered, staring at his knees, his chin on his chest.

Astrid took a shower, and told Walter that she was going to pillage the car seats for change for the snack machine down the hall. Wordlessly he rose, casting his wet leather wallet onto the side table for her inspection as he went into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly.

Astrid dried her ear as she took his wallet, sitting down on the bed to flip it open. It held a single twenty, "Yeah, the government doesn't pay us nearly enough for what we do, huh, Walter?" she smirked, and received no reply. She paused, looking down at a faded, wrinkled Polaroid in the wallet. It depicted a much younger Walter, his hands on the shoulders of a little boy, only about seven, baring a striking resemblance to his father, "you missed out, you know," she told the child, "he loves you so much, it's _insane_." she took the twenty and left on her snack raid.

Being a grant student, Astrid was fully aware of just how many bags of chips it took to amount to a meal, the bulk being comprised of various candy bars, and the lot piled in the hammock of her turned-up shirt front. She entered the hotel room as there was the sound of something shattering, and Walter gave a cry. Astrid dumped the junk food onto the carpet and rushed to the bathroom door, throwing it open, "Walter-?!"

The mirror was shattered in the sink, the fragments littering the tile floor where Walter hunched in naught but his undershorts, whimpering with pain.

"Walter, what's wrong?" Astrid asked, kneeling to touch his shoulders, "are you hurt?"

"My arm!" he wept, his face flooding with tears, "My arm! It hurts-!" he clutched at his empty mechanical socket.

"Walter, you don't-" Astrid started, before she stopped herself. She reached out to gather him up in her arms, resting her cheek on his wet hair as she held him, "Don't worry. It'll stop soon."

xXx

Walter had managed dressing himself that morning with only minor difficulties, such as his shirt buttons and the zipper of his trousers, but he had at last come to what seemed an impassible barrier in his routine.

"Walter? Are you ready?" Astrid asked as she finished brushing her hair, "come on, let's get going."

Walter looked up at her, and returned his glare to his shoes. Astrid paused, and set down the brush as she crossed the room, stooping to begin tying his laces, "There. Now come on, grab your coat and let's go."

Walter took a deep breath, and let out a sigh of thought, "Miss, how would you like a job?"

Astrid smirked, "How do you mean?"

"Would you like to be my assistant, miss?"

"Walter, that was a ruse. I work for the government-"

"I'm not asking you to elope, I'm asking you if you want to continue to assist me in my studies," Walter snapped, situating his coat around his empty shoulder, "which are certain to become far more dangerous, now that I have realized their complete ramifications."

"How do you mean?" Astrid questioned.

"Why did they send you after me, now? Now, when I've only had a glimpse into the unknown, while knowing nothing of it myself? Things are happening, miss- things that may or may not have rational explanations. And…"

"And?" Astrid arched a brow, seeming unconvinced.

"Go on, ogle at me like a aberrational lunatic. Something is coming. I know it is. You may not understand. You may think I'm simply changing fanatical obsessions. But-" Walter paused as Astrid frowned at him.

"Don't think you know what I think," she said darkly, "you have no idea what I think, and you have no right to claim you do. All I know is what I saw last night was _real_. And you know something about it, which also means you may know something about the very real, very weird shit that has been happening, or is about to happen. It's my job to do what I can to protect people from harm that may befall them, and if that means making your damn coffee and tying your damn shoes in the morning, so be it."

"So you'll take the job?" Walter asked hopefully.

Astrid smirked, "I want a raise, if anything."

xXx


	7. Final Chapter

Final Chapter.

"Hello again, son."

Silence answered his greeting. There was the faint rush of wind in the leaves of the overhead maple, the gentle sound of a birdcall. It was amazing how the sounds of the street never seemed to reach, here.

"I don't know what to tell you," Walter continued, "Or, where to begin, for that matter. There's so much swirling around in my head, I don't even know where to begin. But it's good, Peter- for the first time, in a long time, it's… better."

He thought it was a simple blemish on the headstone, and gently reached out to brush it off, when he felt the weight of it on his fingertips, and paused. Slowly, Walter scooped up the medium-sized, slightly tarnished silver coin, lifting it from it's resting place and rubbing it with his thumb. As he examined it, a small, strange shiver crept up his spine.

"How long have you been coming here?" Someone asked, and Walter jumped, looking up. His sighs came to rest on what had to be the strangest man he had ever seen. He was, at even the most careless of inspection, completely bald, with a sheer lack of eyebrows of any kind, but, after a few moments to wear out this disturbing fact, Walter somehow felt as if he knew him. The stranger only stared back at him, his pale gaze hinting at nothing.

"A very long time," Walter answered at last. They stood in silence, staring at each other.

"You lack an arm."

"Yes. I… lost it. I loose a lot of things," but Walter could see that, somehow, this man already knew all about him. It felt as if the entire conversation were just a courtesy… "This is my son, Peter."

"But it isn't." Wind rushed overhead again, the only thing moving on the stranger the hem of his long, black coat.

Walter looked back to the headstone, "No. I suppose you're right."

"You have an arm, on the other side."

Walter glanced up sharply.

"You have a son, as well." The stranger tilted his bare head almost unnoticeably, his eyes thinning as if he were concentrating. Or perhaps questioning. "Your questions are normal, Walter. We have met, but not now, not like this. You do know my name. No, I don't think you will ever remember it. But it is alright."

"That we've met, or that I can't remember your name?" Walter questioned with a half grin.

The stranger did not answer, his head righting itself on his dark shoulders, "I have come to apologize."

"Why?"

"Peter was supposed to die, Walter."

"I'm aware of that."

"But this grave is empty. There is another, much like this one," he looked at the coin poised in Walter's fingertips, and Walter glanced down at it himself, "If I had not erred, you would still have your son."

"But I _do _have my son," Walter said, looking back up at him with a small smile, "Somewhere, a me has a him. Just as I'm sure that one of me out there has an arm, an eye, and an ear… and can remember people's names."

The stranger looked truly surprised, and Walter somehow knew that this was very rare.

"You know what's on the other side. For that, I envy you. But I've seen my son- he looks well. Well enough without me, in any case. Being here, talking to this empty grave and utterly useless mass of granite… it's ridiculous, but I feel closer to him. But if you are truly sorry… then there is something you can do, for me."

The stranger tilted his head again, and Walter clarified.

"Give him a message. Not Peter… him, the me on the other side. Tell him to take care of our boy, would you?"

The stranger nodded, "I will do that, Walter."

Walter smiled, looking down at the coin as he pushed it over his index knuckle with his thumb, flipping it over each of his fingers in a quick, fluid motion. He smiled softly. When he looked up again, the stranger was gone.

He met Astrid in the car, still fiddling with the coin in his fingertips. "I want a root beer float," he suddenly complained airily.

xXx

There was a lot of stuff, in the basement lab at Harvard university. Most of the stuff belonged to one Prof. Walter Bishop, but the rest of it could have come from any number of places. The stuff was often stacked in file cabinets and innumerable cardboard boxes, in no particular order, but as of late and with the introduction of an assistant that went mad without a sense of order, in the chaos, the lab had begun to considerably shape up.

Not that this didn't slightly vex Walter, being so accustomed to everything being anywhere, and so unaccustomed to someone mussing around in his stuff.

Astrid watched the professor shuffle along muttering things under his breath as he carried with him a thick stack of files under his arm. He dropped them onto a small, cleared spot of counter space between a dissected microscope and a crate of extension cords. At last he plopped down in his swivel chair, stooping below the counter to open a cabinet door.

He carried himself considerably well, for being a sixty-two year old man. And only having one arm.

"You remembered to look in the under cabinets," Astrid smiled, breaking the last, slow, half-hour silence.

"Now you've gone around and re-arranged everything, I've about had to sketch out a map," Walter grumbled. But he still seemed silently pleased that she had noticed, "where on earth did you put my stamp?"

"You can't use the stamp anymore," Astrid said, stretching tiredly in her desk chair and rubbing her eyes, "we swapped to the labels, remember?"

"And I suppose it's no trouble at all for me to grab up a pair of skizzors and snip them out?" Walter frowned, nudging the cabinet door shut with his knee and turning to hold up the sheet of labels Astrid had printed out only a few weeks earlier.

"Wait- did you just say 'skizzors'?"

"My point is, if you expect me to use something that is an easier alternative, please consider _actually making it easier_," Walter said, doffing the sheet of labels onto yet another cardboard box stack.

"Sorry," Astrid said, rising and going to retrieve the sheet, "I meant to perforate them, I forgot. Do you want me to cut them out for you?"

Walter let his head drop to the counter atop the files with a dull thud, "I want my arm. Get me my arm from the trunk of the car."

"I know, I know," Astrid sighed, rubbing his shoulders, "but we've talked about this. We're weaning you off the arm, remember?"

"I want my arm," Walter whined again.

"No, no. Come on, Walter, we'll get through this. Things can only get better, from here, am I right? I'll get the skizzors." Astrid smiled, and headed off for the supply box. Not everything had a place just yet, but they would, soon enough.

xXx

END.


End file.
